A/N: I'm sorry for the fluff and fill chapters, but they're so much fun! Work has been a blur lately. But these "scenes" just kind of naturally blossom and take their course.
Thank you again to my viewers and reviewers ❤ I truly do cherish your time for reading and leaving a comment.
Here we have a little touch on the main story. Trying to bring in our other players from the COD story. Got some ideas for the next chapter already swirling! :D
Ch 16: Mess with the Bull…
Somewhere in the UK, approximately 2000 hrs…
Nikolai found himself in the company of several youths from the S.A.S. in Hereford, indulging on a night on the town. It was yet another opportunity to celebrate their long overdue victory. He had tried to convince Price for the umpteenth time to come out, but had been met by a growled tempered response that hinged on a hair trigger from being a full blown fist fight.
"Let sleeping dogs lie." He muttered under his breath to himself, pounding down the next shot.
"I think a sleeping dog should be kicked awake. How else is he to guard his master from harm?"
Nikolai knew the familiar timbre and cynicism all too well.
"My dear," He jumped out of his seat to greet the newcomer.
"You look radiant as ever."
"You called me old Nikolai. An old goat to be specific."
"And yet wise and majestic as ever. I could have always called you much worse." His laughter was contagious, causing the German's smile to arch from cheek to cheek in reply. They exchanged a heartfelt hug, swapping affectionate kisses.
"You always know how to make a woman smile." She chuckled.
"You are a sight for sore eyes. I didn't expect you to come back so soon."
"I made my visit short, sweet and punctual. The more I keep Yevgeny at bay, the more interested he is."
"It is not kind to string him along. Cut him loose if you do not plan on investing."
"I cut you loose a lifetime ago Nikolai, and yet we keep coming back to one another." Capricorn gave a wistful smile to the Russian, her tone falling back to its traditional whispering noble accent,
"I'm past my prime. He knows it. Now it's my time to play the predator. Nikolai, let's find somewhere more, private. We have business to discuss."
Nikolai waved to the bartender and motioned towards a corner booth where he escorted his long time friend. Once settled in and making a sweep of the room with her eyes, Capricorn pulled the crumpled envelop from inside her jacket, passing it flat and facedown to the Russian. Nikolai picked up the paper, rubbing his hand across the bridge of his nose as he read the brief transcript.
"How is he doing?" Nikolai asked, keeping his tone flat.
"Oh, he's feisty. You know I enjoy a challenge."
"You mess with the bull, you get the horn, my dear. I would advise against antagonizing him." He warned. Nikolai knew his Soap all too well. Stubborn, hard-headed, tenacious, slow to anger, and simultaneously the most kind-hearted soul you'd ever meet. Held his friendships in the highest of honor. Betray him, and you made an enemy for life.
"Luckily I have my own set of horns."
"I would hate to see any harm come of my favorite Fräulein." Nikolai fussed, pouting at his German ally.
"Don't use that word. It makes me sound old." She chided.
"You are old, and you should be proud. Silver hairs purchase wisdom. There is not many of your kind left who have been so fortunate to remain free."
"You mean alive. Not only am I old, and past my prime, I'm past expiration. I try to remain a few steps ahead of the competition though. The noose gets a little tighter each day."
A waitress wafted over with two identical drinks and set them on the table. Nikolai gave a quick thanks while Capricorn gave her a solid once over. She was always assessing the next threat.
"Your young bull is well on his way Nikolai. I spent a few hours peeking through his records. You'd be amazed what modern medicine is capable of."
"I think that's reserved for doctor-patient privilege only."
"I personally carted his ass, and his corpse through customs. I deserve a little reward for granting his safe passage both ways."
"You've always pushed the envelope."
"That's why I'm so good at my job. The boy is…" Capricorn struggled to find the words, tapping her index finger against the table,
"He's going to need a lot of help. He needs to stay put until he gets his feet fully under him. He's got the right kind of support where he is now. But he's not all there in the head."
Nikolai took a hard swallow of his drink, the ice chinking against the glass.
"What do you mean?"
"Clever enough to put two and two together and realize I'm not the big bad wolf he thought I was. But, he's edgy. Doesn't quite remember a lot, though he's coming along rather nicely. He'll need time, Nik. You can't expect someone who's been pushed to the brink so many times to come back whole so quickly. If ever." She cleared her voice, taking a graceful sip from her drink.
"Otherwise, all is quiet on the Western Front."
"That is good news, no?"
"Not necessarily. My counterpart expects something. However, on the Eastern Front, the far East, much is brewing. Eleven hundred strong in Serbia. Plans for financial backing are in the winds. The Dragon Lady is very upset you stole her man from her. I expect her to make moves. And when she does, it's going to be big."
Nikolai couldn't help but snicker at the commentary.
"You don't call her that to her face, do you?"
"Not if I want to live. Hydra has a nicer ring to it. Kingfish's following is much like one of those beasts. You cut one head off, another rears up to takes its place. This movement is something you need to eradicate in one fell swoop. Try to pluck it apart by pieces, and another power will emerge from the ashes. Ultranationalists are like weeds."
"I can tell you this, my Fräulein," Nik smiled when he saw Capricorn's face cringe in disapproval, the sly grin falling and her grey starlight eyes narrowing.
"We cannot wait for such an opportunity. Resources and man power too thin. Men are tired of fighting. This is the first time many of these faces have known peace. It is hard to justify force when there is nothing but whispers. I need proof if I am to convince anyone."
"All in good time Nikolai. That's why I tell you these things now so you have the opportunity to prepare. The wheels of justice turn slow, but grind fine."
"I suspect you're building your case. Remember, I need something solid when you do deliver."
"I always do Nik. The day I don't, well…don't even bother sending a search party. You'll know what happened. I'll be around in a few weeks so you can pass along new word to the young bull."
"Good. I'll have something a little more substantial for him."
"Have you told Price yet?"
"I have not. After today's conversation, I need to rethink my approach. This news will not break gently on him."
"The old dog and pup are more alike than they like to admit."
"Too alike. When you work with both of them, they will drive you crazy with their stubbornness." Nikolai huffed out a sigh and pocketed the envelope.
"Are you staying in town tonight, my Fräulein? Or do you prefer old goat?"
"I prefer Capricorn, just as you prefer Nikolai. I think you like calling me old goat. You Russian's are known for your uncanny affection for the hoofed kind. You want me to bray like billy in bed too?"
"I'd like it if you quit busting my balls and take a break from work. Let's us celebrate the small victories first. A toast. To the many good men and women we lost. May they find glory in the afterlife."
Together, Nikolai and Capricorn raised their glasses.
Day 57, Monday February 4, 2017
Week 9
I can't believe it's been nine weeks already. Nine conscious weeks in Iceland, nine weeks in a coma. Eighteen weeks out of the field too long.
It's not all that bad though. Coming to terms with my present situation has been a bit of a struggle, but with the company I keep and the busy schedule Elle has me on, there's little time to dwell and self loath.
One of the best things she's introduced is the pool. It's the next phase before she starts adding weights, and calisthenics. Bonus points because the water is heated. Iceland has a plethora of natural hot springs, and the older of the two pool houses was generously built over one. The newer physical therapy facility taps into the geothermal spring, making it an ideal cost effective situation. There's also a different instructor for the pool sessions, giving Elle a break from us.
And it's a regular social event. Elle's arranged for Chad and I to attend together, and I get to meet a few other wayward souls of the War that have been calling Steinn Aflinn home. Jody Johnson -J.J. or Jo-Jo for short, a crazy bastard Australian S.A.S.R. who was caught up in the radiation blast with some wicked scarring across his body. He's one of the longest residing patients here. Needless to say like almost all the Australians I've met, he's bloody mad and lacking filters on anything that comes out of his mouth. There's Neil Lattimer, an English fellow and S.R.R. [Special Reconnaissance Regiment] member -a sister company to the S.A.S.'s 22nd who is hard-nosed and probably the most well grounded guy I've had the opportunity to encounter. Then there's Chancellor Stratton, -or as everyone calls him Chance -another Yank born and bred in the deep south territory of Louisiana with a heart for booze, good "soul food" and the blues. The kid's a straight up farm boy who signed up for the Marine Corps to carry on family tradition. I swear he's pulling my leg when he starts talking about trudging through swamps and wrestling alligators, but Chad assures me the South does things differently.
What starts as PT usually closes out with shenanigans and makeshift water polo. Chad's got a wicked arm on him and he's designated goalie every time to level the playing field. His coaching background is very apparent when he organizes the lot of us into teams and establishes the rules. Even spends a bit of time to show techniques and starts teaching me how to throw with my left.
After one afternoon session of pool PT and water sports, Chad and I are attempting to work on pitching a tennis ball with my right arm. The key word was "attempt." My rotator cuff reminds me it's not 100 percent. One good pitch and I feel like I've ripped something, but Chad has me laughing through the pain.
"You sure you were special forces Jonny-boy? If that were a live one we'd all be dead."
It was the truth. I remember we used to practice our grenade throws all the time. It wasn't just about distance. It was about speed and accuracy. Sometimes you needed to throw one hot and fast through an open window of a moving vehicle. Others need hang time so they'd detonate at the right moment behind enemy barriers. One miscalculation and you'd either be having a face full of shrapnel, or have blinded yourself with a flashbang.
"If you only knew the half of it." I grab the back of my shoulder as a twinge of pain radiates down to my elbow.
"I know what it's like to blow a shoulder out. That's why I had to stop pitching for a while. It killed me every day not being out on the ballfield."
There's a bunch of commotion at the other end of the pool. Elle's come back with Jakob ready to rally the troops and J.J.'s asking her something poolside. I already see where this is going, and she does too, but a moment too late. There's a high pitch squeal and a large wave a water that's sloshed in Elle's face and all over the floor. It's easy to recognize the thrall of curse words berating him in her native tongue and the crazy bastard's laughing as he swims out of harm's reach. I'm surprised when Elle flips him off. She's slicking the wet hair from her face when she finally reaches Chad and myself.
"You better not be setting my patient back Mr. Whitney." She warns him when she sees me still holding my shoulder. The whole front of her grey shirt and thighs of her bottoms are soaking wet from the amphibious assault. Jakob remains at the other end, retrieving the out-of-bounds ball and hitting it back into play.
"Wouldn't harm a hair on his head, doll." Chad makes his voice sound holier than thou, holding one hand up in mock oath, the other clasped over his heart. A real Boy Scout.
"He hasn't done anything worse than what you've already inflicted on me Elle. Don't think I've forgotten that first day on the stairs."
Or that day I was so hellbent they had to pump me full of sedatives. In hindsight, it's all been for the better. Elle wasn't lying when she said I'd be my own worst enemy.
"And yet here you are John. Each day, one step closer." The journey of a 1000 miles has never rung so true. She smiles at me, something proud in the way her lips upturn, but still in a modest fashion. Elle directs the conversation towards Chad but never breaks her stare with me.
"I come bearing good news Mr. Whitney."
"Wait a minute. Hold it right there. You call Johnny-boy by his first name all the time, but you never address me by mine." There's a touch of resentment overshadowed by his pout, but whether it's against Elle or myself, I'm not certain. Elle breaks eye contact, not without first giving a roll of her eyes, dedicating her attention towards Chad.
"Alright. Charles." It's icy. Her tone is firm and instantly devoid of the friendly warmth, arms folding across her chest. She's used that voice with me more than enough times to let me know I've pushed her kindness and patience too far. Chad physically winces, and Elle takes note.
"Your request has been accepted by the board and approved. Expect further details on the arrangement within the week."
And just like that the scowl is gone. Replaced with something comparable to a look of disbelief. Of awe. As if God himself had just spoken to him -and Chad wasn't exactly the God-worshipping, or for that fact, a God-fearing kind of guy. His response is the most humbled I've heard yet.
"And you came all the way down here to tell me that?" There's a waver in his voice, as if something precious is about to be ripped from him fingers.
"Of course. I wanted to deliver the message personally, and make sure you heard it first thing." Elle backs off on the tough act, everything in her demeanor relaxing. Just like your typical drill instructor, the act is really just a sign of love -tough love, that is.
"I appreciate it Elle. From the bottom of my heart."
I find myself fascinated by the quiet power Elle wields. How with just her posture and words -not even her words, but her with her tone, the air she carriers herself– she takes over a room. In our line of works it's called Command Presence, and your first line of defense. It describes someone whose demeanor, nothing more than with their mere presence, leaves no doubt they are someone to be respected. And the control. Elle doesn't need to flex her muscles to let everyone know who's boss. It's something else she does that allows her to execute and maintain the order.
"You hear that motherfucker?!" Chad's voice is back to its usual boisterous gravelly self.
Apparently I must have been gawking, because Chad punches me in the shoulder -my bad shoulder- and the dormant defense tactics spring back to life in a split second. I get a solid grip on his wrist with my good side, and start to roll him into an arm-bar take down. Not exactly something I've practiced with my left. When I get my hands on him, I start to realize I've overestimated myself and my abilities, and have greatly underestimated Chad. He's nice enough not to clock me with his elbow, but when he breaks his grip he gets right into it. Bloody fucking Rangers. Always over the top.
There's a lot of commotion and water splashing everywhere, hooting and jeering from one end, and Elle yelling over all of it to break it up. Chad's got himself behind me and his big forearm coils under my chin and around my neck. It doesn't take much for him to flex and press on the carotid, just enough to give a taste of that faint feeling to let me know he's got the upper hand. There's nothing I hate more than being made an example of.
There's a proper way to get out of this kind of position. Between the water and Chad having the better leverage on me, there's limited options. So I do the next best thing -use my head.
It's enough to stun Chad. Enough to get his arm loose from around my neck where I can break away from it. When I whirl back around he's holding his left eye, yet he's laughing so hard you'd think he was ready to piss himself.
"You mad Johnny-boy?" He's snickering, pulling his hand away from his left eye. An angry bruise is already settling in, a small cut in his brow. Nothing phases this guy. He extends his right hand out for a truce. I don't trust it. With the adrenalin dump crashing down, I feel the searing burn in my shoulder. I was in no mood, and in no shape for shenanigans.
"You pull some bloody bullshit, I'll kill you." It's a threat, but not a promise. Fueled by anger and pain. Apprehensively, I take his surrender. No funny business. Chad's learned how far he can push me before I react.
"Heh, I'm sorry man. I didn't think about your shoulder. Just got all excited. You still got those moves Johnny-boy, crippled and all. Guess they do teach you new-jacks something after all."
"Just wait, Chad. When I'm done with all this rehabbing nonsense and get back into my old routine, you'll be in for a world of hurt."
"That a challenge?"
"Might be."
Guys love competition -that's why sports appeal to us. Especially one where we get to show off our skills and prowess. Even better when you hail from some of the most notorious military branches of badass. However, our warden thinks differently.
"There will be no such things happening under my watch. I'm not wasting my time to fix you boys up just so you can have a schoolyard thrown down to prove who's the most macho."
Elle's scowling at the both of us. Safe to say neither of us feel bad about the brief altercation. It actually felt invigorating. Like I had a piece of my old self back that I thought I had lost along the way. We were weapons of war and meant to be used, not to sit idle.
"You have no shame. Either of you." Elle scolds, but the two of us can only shrug and smile at her displeasure. She realizes she has no control over our domain of military lifestyles. It was the same discipline that either harbingered excessive neatness, or tuned you into the biggest sandbagger.
"Time to move out gentlemen."
A/N: Chad's got a special delivery waiting for him. We also get to peer a little into our boys back on the 141 front. I got some fun ideas for the next upcoming chapters 😃
If you couldn't tell, I draw a lot of inspiration from age old phrases, and after the one regarding messing with the bull, I dug into my favorite astrology book and rediscovered one of my favorite lines describing Taureans, and I instantly thought of Soap. It provided a lot of inspiration for his character to develop beyond the COD screen.